


May 4th, 2012

by avocadodreamin



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:56:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocadodreamin/pseuds/avocadodreamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"I'm the closest he has to family. He'd do the same for me."<br/>"I know and I love that about you guys, but don't be an idiot."<br/>"Wouldn't be the first time."</p>
  <p>Foggy and Karen, Episode 1.06, 'Condemned'</p>
</blockquote><br/>This is the first time. There's a hole in the sky and aliens are invading New York.
            </blockquote>





	1. Foggy I

As Foggy’s ears ring, he thinks, _I hope they let me retake the exam._

Half a second later, he thinks, _I need to find Matt._

His phone is out of his pocket and switched on before he realizes he’s got it. He calls Matt. Matt doesn’t answer. Matt takes his exams in an office at Health Services, which is only five minutes’ walk away from the law school on a good day. This is not a good day.

There is a _hole in the sky_ above New York City. There are things pouring out of it that Foggy can barely even believe, and he can see them; he can only imagine how insane this must be for Matt. The air is filled with screams and smoke. Foggy can hear glass shattering from miles away.

It’s the most terrified he’s ever been.

He stumbles towards the door to the hall he’s in. The TAs are waving their hands, trying to get people to calm down. One of them is hyperventilating slightly. It’s not helping. People push past Foggy towards the doors, screaming, grabbing each other, looking up at the sky. There are people on their phones trying to get through to loved ones, trying to watch the news. Foggy stares down at his phone. Still no answer. He tries again. The doorway is packed with people pushing and shoving, and Foggy keeps thinking _find Matt, get to Matt_ , and then someone clips his elbow and knocks him down the stairs.

Something _alien_ flies by above them.

A woman screams.

Foggy groans. There’s pain shooting up from his ankle, and he knows he’s done something to it, but the adrenaline pumping through his body won’t let him know how bad it is. He puts some weight on it. It doesn’t collapse underneath him, so he counts it as a win. He takes a few limping steps forward.

“Foggy!” Marci’s voice cries in his ear. Her nails are sharp where they dig into his arm. “You’re hurt, you idiot!”

“I don’t think I’m the only one,” Foggy grunts. Marci grips his arm and helps him walk, leading him down the street. “I need to find Matt.”

“You need to get help for your ankle,” Marci barks. Foggy can feel her scrambling for control. They both look up at the sound of something scraping against glass. It’s not in their street this time. Around them, people are running everywhere, towards the sound, away from it.

“Health Services. We can get my ankle fixed and find Matt at the same time,” says Foggy tightly. Marci rolls her eyes.

“He’s a big boy, he can take care of yourself. You clearly can’t,” she snaps. She’s worried, or at least Foggy hopes she is.

“He’s blind, he won’t be able to even see what’s happening, and he’s alone,” Foggy replies. Marci sighs, pushing through the crowds. It’s been nearly ten minutes since the attack started, since a loud, unnatural _boom_ had filled the hall and people started going apeshit. Health Services is only five minutes away.

“Fine, we’ll find your _boyfriend_ as soon as your ankle is wrapped or splinted or whatever the fuck you need,” says Marci. They stumble down the street, cars stopped at awkward angles as people stare up at the sky. She pulls him around a car. He winces, stumbles. “Sorry.”

“Go faster,” Foggy insists. “Believe me, I know my own tolerance for pain, and it is low. I wouldn’t still be going if it hurt. Of course, it doesn’t hurt because there are aliens in the sky right now and I can’t feel pretty much anything, but that’s fine, right? Totally normal. Just another day in the big city.” He knows he’s rambling, but it’s like once his mouth is open, he can’t stop the words falling out. He snaps it shut, teeth vibrating in his skull. Someone stops Marci to show her the Avengers on their phone.

“What the fuck do you think the five of them are going to do against this?” Marci snorts, waving her hand in the air. She drags Foggy forwards until finally they get through the door of Health Services.

“MATT!” Foggy calls out once they get inside, pulling away from Marci. She tugs him back. Her nails are going to leave a mark. It won’t be the first time.

“Ankle first,” she snaps, but Foggy ignores her, pulling away again.

“Ma’am, please, my friend was here, he was taking his exam, he’s blind-” Foggy says to the receptionist. Her eyeliner is running down her cheeks as she cries.

“We tried,” she explains. Foggy frowns.

“What do you mean, what did you _try_ to do?” he asks angrily, but he already knows. He knows Matt better than pretty much anyone, and he’s already walking away when she calls out to him.

“We couldn’t keep him here, he refused to stay!” she says to his departing back. Marci stands in front of him, between him and the door. He tries to go around. Winces. She grabs his shoulders.

“Go back to that nurse and get your fucking foot fixed, I’ll ask around about what’s happening...about Matt,” she snaps. Then the police arrive.

They order everyone to stay inside.

Foggy growls. Above him, outside, the sky is screaming.


	2. Matt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the sky over New York opens up and aliens pour through, Matt Murdock is overwhelmed.

The sky is screaming.

There’s something that happens just before the hole in the sky opens up. Matt can feel it, distracting him from his test. His tester is saying something to him, but he can’t quite focus. His city is in trouble, but he doesn’t know why.

“Excuse me, I need some water,” he says softly, adding just the right amount of rasp to his voice. He’s been talking a lot, and his glass is empty. He reaches for it, bumping it off the table to the floor.

“Of course,” the tester says. Picks it up, leaves the room, heels tapping against wooden floors. Matt follows her out. He knows the exam is important, but whatever it is that’s happening, it’s more important, it’s bigger…

And then the sky screams as it’s torn apart.

Matt gasps, reaching for the wall. The sounds of violent invasion are wrenching, but worse than the noise is the smell. The invaders, whoever - _whatever_ \- they are, give off a scent that feels like a thousand sharp needles in Matt’s nose. It swims in his head, overwhelming his senses. His world whites out for a few moments, until a point of pressure on his arm brings him back.

“Are you alright, hon?” the woman from behind the desk asks. She hasn’t heard it yet, but someone has. There’s a murmur that goes through the building, starting as whispers, ascending like a wave. It hits them all at once.

“Holy _fuck_!” screams a co-ed, looking out the window. “Look!”

The pressure leaves Matt’s arm, but its effect stays. The world starts coming back into focus, the sounds and smells of the people around him reestablishing themselves against the backdrop of sky-shaking terror. Jobs and exams are abandoned. He hears his tester run outside, the click-click of her uncomfortable heels disappearing out the door. The woman from behind the desk calls her children.

Matt wants to call Foggy.

He left his phone in their room. He almost never leaves his phone behind, but he only has the one exam today, he thought he’d only be gone a few hours. Besides, it wasn’t like he could have his phone on during the test. He curses himself. Nothing too awful has happened on this street yet, though, so Foggy is probably safely ensconced in the hall down the road...if only Matt can get there…

Matt jogs to the door, holding his cane ahead of him in pretense.

“No, hon, you have to stay inside, it’s not safe-” the woman from the desk tells him. The tang of salt hits Matt’s tongue. She’s crying. “We’re being attacked again.”

“I know. I need to find my friend,” Matt replies.

“How are you going to do that? You should stay, we should all stay _inside_ ,” she insists. Then Matt hears it coming. The unnatural whir of an alien ship, the unrecognizable scent rolling down through the street. He pulls her away from the window as it passes over them. People shriek outside. The woman shrieks beside him. He pulls his arm away.

“I’m going to find Foggy,” Matt says, low in his voice. There are people everywhere who need help, and he wants to help them, help all of them, but he’s so off-balance and off-kilter and he needs to know Foggy’s okay.

“Don’t go!” the woman cries out. He’s already gone. He walks through the crowd, dodging anyone who gets near him. His sweater itches where it meets his wrist. He focuses on that feeling as he rounds the corner. There’s a fire escape. He climbs it.

It’s usually easier on the rooftops. Matt makes sure to stay back from the edge, feeling the faces turned up towards the sky, and tries to listen to the city like he normally does when things get like this. He’s seeking out Foggy’s voice, Foggy’s scent, Foggy’s heartbeat. But the smell of the invaders is stronger up here. The wind is harder. The sound of the hole in the sky and the yawning chasm of space behind it are...there aren’t words for what they are. There’s only the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest, sweat gathering on his forehead and palms, the sickening swoop of his stomach. This isn’t right. It isn’t…

He needs Foggy.

Matt swings his head around, searching, searching, but he can’t pick out a single voice in the throng. There are too many screams, too many cries of fear and longing for loved ones. Somewhere, someone is thrown a long way. They might be dead. There might be an awful lot of people dead in his city, and he can’t do _anything_. It’s maddening.

He makes his way across the rooftops, the dizzying sensation in his stomach refusing to abate long enough for him to run like he normally would. He almost misses one jump, clinging to the edge of the roof with fingertips and a foot before he can clamber up. His stomach drops again. Matt’s at the right roof now, the hall where Foggy took his test is below, but there are only three people left inside and none of them are Foggy. He knows that much. He can hear the police. They sound as afraid as everyone else.

It’s not exactly reassuring.

He sits down smack in the center of the roof. Around Matt, his city cries out with need. He meditates, pushes it out. _Focus_ , says the voice in the back of his mind, the one that’s part Stick and part his dad and all fucked up. He listens to it.

A block away, a man screams. An alien roars, and the sounds mingle together.

And Matt runs.


	3. Foggy II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy still can't find Matt, and he definitely doesn't panic.

It only takes fifteen minutes for Foggy to get fed up and walk back out of Health Services.

It goes something like this. He stays still long enough for one of the nurses to look at his ankle (she’s his favorite, because her eyes are red but she’s stopped crying, and she cracks a joke about E.T and phoning home while she pokes and prods at him). She decides it’s most likely a sprain, tells him to stay off it for at least a week, and to go to the hospital if it gets worse. While the nurse wraps his ankle, he talks to his parents on the phone (they’re fine, his sister’s fine, and nobody’s safe but they’re as close as it gets). His mother chews him out for losing Matt. He puts her on speaker so she can say as much to the nurse and Marci.

Marci tells Foggy to stay put, that Matt will take care of himself. Foggy disagrees.

So, as soon as his ankle is wrapped and in direct opposition to both Marci and the nurse, Foggy tries to walk out. Although, he thinks, walking might be a generous term for the slow and painful limp he’s adopted. Just before he reaches the door, Marci’s cool hand grabs his arm. He stops. She’s holding an old, battered crutch.

“How are you going to get past them?” she asks, gesturing towards the cops outside with the crutch.

“How about you knock them all out with that thing? I bet you could do it, you’re tougher than a whole bag of nails,” Foggy says. Marci snorts and shoves the crutch in his hand.

“Don’t be a hero,” she snaps. He knows it’s her way of giving him permission. She turns around and starts to scream, distracting the cops. Foggy walks past them.

“Where are you, Matt?” Foggy asks of the sky once he leaves the health center. There’s no answer forthcoming, no bolt of divine intervention, just the distant sounds of screams and that godawful hole in the sky. He stares at it. There’s some kind of activity around it. Not long ago, someone looking out the window at Health Services had reported a huge bolt of lightning lighting it up. Foggy knows it’s the Avengers, and he watches the distant fight for a few moments while he thinks. Where would Matt go? Home? Would he be looking for Foggy, like Foggy was looking for Matt? Or is he stuck somewhere, scared and hurt?

Foggy decides to go home first. It takes him longer than it should, but he knows as soon as he opens the door that Matt isn’t there, hasn’t been there.

Something in him breaks apart.

He punches the wall once, twice, tears filling his eyes. A few of them drop to the carpet before he swipes his sleeve across his face, runs his hand through his hair. Part of him wants to drop down on the bed and rest, but there’s this adrenaline pumping through him, his heart pumping out a message to his brain. He has to find Matt before he can sit down.

He leaves again.

Somewhere on campus, Foggy assumes, some nerd will have organized a board or a group to find missing people. He heads for student services, knowing it’s unlikely that Matt will go there, but maybe someone there will have seen him. Somebody _has_ to know _something_. A blind guy can’t just disappear off the streets during an alien invasion, right?

Then the whole city goes still, looking up. It’s horror-movie eerie. Foggy follows their eyes up to the sky, and he sees what they’re looking at. Iron Man. The little red and gold figure in the distance flies into the hole. A minute passes, and the hole starts closing behind him. There’s silence, the sound of a city holding its breath.

A shudder of relief passes through the city as a tiny, red-clad man falls back through the sky.

The hole disappears behind him. People on the street start crying, cheering, hugging each other, the relief tangible in the air. Someone grabs Foggy’s shoulder, knocking him off balance again, then wraps an arm around him. He wants to feel it, wants to celebrate with everyone, but somehow his fear for Matt is worse than ever. He pulls at the person who’s hugging him, a woman, taller than he is. Asks if he’s seen a blind guy with brown hair. She hasn’t.

He asks every second or third person he sees along the way. Stops people who are celebrating, cheering, drinking. Some of them look at him with pity, others confusion, and still others anger that he’s bringing down their high. Foggy’s doesn’t much care. He plows into a group of frat boys and asks again.

“Uh. Yeah, bro, he’s right behind you,” one guy says, grinning stupidly and pointing over Foggy’s shoulder. Foggy turns around, and there, finally, in the street, there’s Matt. He’s standing in the middle of a crowd, stock still, tilting his head. Foggy thinks he can see Matt shivering. He thinks he says ‘thanks’. He’s not sure, because he can’t even feel his feet as the relief floods through him. He rushes down the street, through the crowd to where Matt is standing.

“Matt. _Matt._ MATT!” he calls, reaching out. He grips Matt’s shoulder. Matt turns around.


	4. Matt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Matt needs in order to focus is to find a fight.

When the world’s in chaos, all Matt really needs is a fight.

The rattling scream of the alien shakes Matt’s senses back into focus. Finally he has something he can concentrate on, something other than the terrifying vacuum of space beyond a gaping tear in the world. Matt knows there are bigger, almost impossibly big threats out there in the city now, but this is one he can help with. He can tune out the smell of everyone’s fear below when he focuses on the fear in the screams of the humans who are being attacked by this one alien. He can help. He can fight. He can _do something_.

Matt pulls off his glasses and shoves them in his shirt pocket as he runs, flipping over a rooftop, scaling down a fire escape. He pauses for a moment, listening. There’s an undulating buzz from the alien’s craft, some kind of flying motorcycle thing, he thinks, which is embedded in the building to Matt’s right. The alien lets out another unnatural scream, which seems to be affected by some kind of electronic mask that hides its real face. If the terrible smell coming off the thing hadn’t marked it as unearthly, its heartbeat would give it away, wildly different to the three humans in the alley below. Their hearts beat fast, scared, and Matt makes out one man and two women. The man is bleeding from the neck. One woman clings to the man’s arm, hiding behind him, his cologne mixed with her perfume. _Girlfriend_ , Matt thinks. The other one holds up a garbage can lid in front of her against the alien threat. She’s terrified, but she’s also _angry_ , and Matt instantly likes her.

The alien takes a swipe at her, knocking her into the wall. Matt drops from his perch.

HIs first hit knocks the alien on the side of the head, momentarily dizzying it. Matt’s relieved that at least some of the alien’s physiology is similar to a human’s, to give him some idea of how to fight it. It recovers quickly, but its attention is on Matt now. Matt can feel the open street to his back, the dead end of the alleyway ahead of him - with the people he’s come to help trapped between the alien and the wall. First order of business, he thinks, is to give them a path out. He jumps.

Matt’s foot connects with the wall, giving him a height advantage, and he bring his fist across the alien’s jaw. It screeches with pain and lashes out, the weapon on its hand connecting with Matt’s forehead. He can feel his skin split open as he’s knocked sideways into a pile of rotten garbage. He groans, but he doesn’t have time to recover before the alien is upon him. There’s a thrum and a flash of heat from the weapon, and Matt gasps, rolling to the side. The weapon _incinerates_ the garbage he’d been lying on. The heat almost burns his cheek.

“Get out of here,” he yells at the three other people. Two of them, the guy and his girlfriend, run. For a moment, with the spinning in his head, he can’t place the other girl. Then he hears her. She’s behind the alien, and there’s a chunk of concrete with a pipe sticking out of it clenched in her hands. She brings it up, arms straining under its weight. The alien starts to turn.

“Hey!” Matt shouts at it. He jumps, spins, and kicks high, catching the alien in the chest. It doesn’t do much damage, but it does the trick of distracting the creature so the girl can hit it. The pipe embeds itself in the alien’s head. The scream that comes out of it nearly deafens Matt.

The alien’s still standing.

“Oh my God,” the girl cries, an edge of frustration fighting the fear. The alien turns on her, the concrete and pipe falling to the ground. It raises its weapon fast, too fast, and even though the girl runs, even though Matt grabs the chunk of concrete as fast as he can, the humans aren’t quick enough. The blast from the weapon rips a hole in the girl’s side. Matt’s already swinging the pipe when he hears her cry out, and the swing follows through, connecting with the alien’s legs. It goes down, turning its weapon on Matt, but Matt anticipates the movement. He gets both hands on the casing, forcing it back towards the alien just as it pulls the trigger. It shoots through its own shoulder. There’s another unnatural screech and then it’s down.

Matt stands over it, shaking, as the adrenaline and fury leave him.

Then he runs to the girl.

The only heartbeat left in the alleyway is his own.

Matt carries the girl’s body out to the street and leaves her on a stoop. Someone has noticed, someone is running towards them, but they’re lost in the rush and the noise and the smells again, and Matt’s head reels. He turns, his footing slipping, and goes back. Retraces his steps. Lets his feet take him back to the street where he started all this, back towards the Health Center and his room and _Foggy_... God, how could he forget? What if Foggy had encountered something just like the girl had? What if Foggy somehow found out what he had done…

It’s too much. The sounds, the smell of blood on his clothes, the echoing fear of his world up on the rooftops of his city. He feels a scream building inside him. His feet slip too many times, and he gets stuck halfway down a fire escape, and he doesn’t know where he is…

Matt feels a shockwave go through the city.

It rips the breath out of him for a moment, and the stillness once it’s passed makes his stomach drop. He wonders for a moment if he’s lost his senses all together. Then he realizes he can still feel the metal of the fire escape under his fingers, the pain of the gash on his head, the breeze of the air on his cheek. The sound comes back soon after. It’s the sounds of the aliens that are gone. There’s no more buzz and hum and screech. More importantly, the sky is whole again. He can no longer feel that chasm.

He breathes deeply, pulling himself back from hysteria.

Matt wanders out into the street. Without the background noise, the sounds of the humans celebrating seems...quiet, almost. He’d been so overwhelmed for so long that now everything sounds like it’s underwater. He can barely make out one sound from another, thinks he might hear something familiar...his name…

A hand touches his shoulder, soft and warm and familiar. _Foggy_. He turns and crashes into his friend.


	5. Foggy III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy has Matt back, but not in the shape he hoped he'd find him in.

“Matt. It’s okay, I got you, Matt, Matty, hey, come on, are you okay, buddy? You’re scaring me. Matt? You...oh my God, you’re bleeding!”

Foggy is taken aback when Matt falls against his shoulder, doesn’t initially see Matt’s wounds. He wraps his free arm around his friend, but he only gets to hold Matt for a moment before he realizes that Matt’s hurt. Foggy’s hand is gentle on Matt’s arm as he pushes him back, but he does _push_ , trying to get a better look at his best friend. Above Matt’s left eye there’s a long tear, blood oozing out of it, running down Matt’s cheek. Looking Matt over, he sees more blood, on his arms, his shirt. Foggy grips Matt’s arm hard, his eyes bugging out, scared out his mind.

“I’m okay.” Matt’s voice, always deep, is almost too low to hear. Foggy shakes his head fast.

“No, you...Matt, you are _not okay_ , Jesus Christ on a flaming bicycle, what the hell happened to you? Where did you go? Where else are you hurt? All this blood…” Foggy’s hand run over Matt’s stomach, his chest, his sides, looking for the injury. Matt shakes his head, covers Foggy’s hand with his own, pulls it away.

“It’s not mine,” he grinds out, and Foggy stills. He grips Matt’s hand, staring. Matt’s not wearing his glasses, and the blood from his cut is threatening to run into his wide brown eyes. Foggy lets go of Matt, raising his hand to dab at the blood before it can reach Matt’s eye.

“What happened, Matty?” he whispers, fingers hovering over the cut for a second before dropping to Matt’s shoulder.

“I just wanted to help,” Matt says, voice thick with tears. “I couldn’t...first I wanted to find you, but then I heard a girl scream...she was dead when I got there. She died.”

“Oh, buddy,” Foggy sighs. Matt wobbles on his feet, and Foggy catches him around the waist.

“It was so loud, I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you,” Matt says tiredly. Foggy pulls Matt against him, dropping the crutch so he can get both arms around Matt. A shiver runs through Matt as Foggy draws him in close, letting him rest his head against Foggy’s shoulder. He runs a hand up and down Matt’s back, cards the fingers of his other hand through Matt’s hair. Concentrates on Matt being here, and alive, and hopefully not too badly hurt.

“What happened to your head?” Foggy asks when Matt finally pulls away. Matt’s hand drifts upwards toward the cut, and Foggy grabs it, holds on. Doesn’t want the blood mixing.

“A piece of debris fell on it when I tried to help,” Matt says. Foggy nods, inspecting the cut. It doesn’t look like there’s anything still in there, which is mildly comforting.

“We’re going back to Health Services. No arguments,” Foggy instructs when Matt opens his mouth. “They’ll tell you if that monstrosity needs stitches, which let’s face it, it almost definitely does, although I’m sure they can do it there. The hospitals are probably all full anyway. And if you ever scare me like that again, Matthew Murdock, I am going to kick your ass.”

“Sorry,” Matt mutters. He _is_ sorry, Foggy can hear it in his voice.

“Just stay safe next time, okay? I can’t-” he says, then stops. _Lose you_ , he thinks. 

“Yeah. I know, Foggy,” Matt agrees. He brings his hand to Foggy’s elbow and squeezes. “Lead the way.”

“Hang on a second, I gotta get my crutch,” Foggy says, bending down. He rises to see a look of horror on Matt’s face.

“You’re hurt?” Matt says, reaching out both hands as if he can find Foggy’s pain. Foggy shakes his head. Matt, with a huge gash on his head, worrying about Foggy. Of course he is.

“I only sprained my ankle. Some people are not so calm in the event of a massive alien attack on the city, as it turns out,” Foggy says. He redirects Matt’s hand to his elbow, where Matt clings like Foggy’s a raft and Matt is drowning. Foggy pats his hand. “It’s not too bad, honest. I’m just supposed to stay off it for a while.”

“Then let’s go home,” Matt says immediately. Foggy starts walking.

“Health Services. Then home. No arguments.” Matt tries to argue, of course he does, but Foggy’s the pilot of their stupid injured two-person ship, and he directs them straight to the nurses. Marci’s long gone when Foggy drags Matt through the doors. He finds the good nurse, the one that taped up his ankle, and she reluctantly agrees to put in the three stitches Matt’s head needs herself. Matt quizzes her about Foggy’s ankle the whole time. She laughs at him, shaky but genuine, and Foggy shakes his head fondly. Finally, finally, she gives them the all clear to go home, with very clear instructions that they aren’t to strain themselves and that Matt is to be watched for concussion. 

They shamble home in silence.


	6. Matt III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy struggle to come to terms with the attack on their city.

Matt finds himself fussing over Foggy the moment the door clicks shut behind them. Foggy settles on his back obediently, an ice pack provided by the nurse settled against his ankle, but Matt can’t stop moving. At first, he tries to get himself under control. He changes out of the bloody clothes, washes his face. In the bathroom, before he goes back to Foggy, he closes his eyes, allows himself to listen to Foggy’s heartbeat for a moment. But when he comes back into the dorm room, Matt can’t settle. The world outside is still so loud, so filled with fear and sorrow and relief. Matt paces, he touches everything, he jumps at every sound. As he walks past the wall, he tilts his head. Casually leans a hand out to press against it, and feels the slightest dent there. There’s still the faint smell of Foggy’s skin on the plaster. He runs his fingers over it, frowns, opens his mouth, then closes it. Foggy lets out a soft sound of displeasure.

“Sit with me, Matt,” he says. Matt shakes his head a little. He _can’t_. “Please.”

“You’re hurt. I don’t want to jostle your ankle,” Matt protests.

“Then sit still. Come on, Matt,” Foggy says. Matt hears him shuffle over, patting the space beside him.

“I should go help,” Matt says. “I should _do_ something…”

“You’re hurt too, buddy. Remember? Hole in head, probable concussion?” Foggy says gently. “Sit. Talk to me. I missed you.”

And that’s what gets Matt to listen. Really _listen_ this time, to the way that Foggy’s heart is still a little too fast. To the quiver in his voice. He runs his fingers over the wall again; Foggy was here, Foggy punched the wall because he couldn’t find Matt. Foggy was _scared_. Matt approaches slowly, sits on the edge of Foggy’s bed. Foggy humphs. Hooks an arm around Matt’s and tugs him in. Inhales sharply when the movement of the bed makes his ankle fall at an awkward angle. “See, I told you-”

“If you would just _sit_ and _relax_ like a normal human being then I wouldn’t have to fight you and my ankle would be fine,” Foggy grumbles. Matt feels along the bed to where the ice pack is and readjusts it against Foggy’s ankle, keeping his hands gentle as he turns Foggy’s foot. There’s heat there, and he knows the sprain is worse than Foggy’s letting on. He makes his careful way back to sit next to Foggy, back against the headboard. Foggy sighs, smiles. “That’s better.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks cautiously. Foggy snorts.

“I made it very clear that I wanted you to be doing exactly what you’re doing right now, so yes, Matt, this is definitely an improvement on you running around the room like a lunatic,” Foggy says. Matt goes still. He didn’t mean to worry Foggy more, it’s just so hard to block it all out. Foggy sighs and pats Matt’s leg. “It’s okay. We’re okay now.”

“Yeah,” Matt whispers again. He can’t keep the shake out of his own voice. He closes his eyes, tries to focus on Foggy, to keep the memories from seeping in. He can still smell the dead girl’s blood on his clothes in the hamper. He can almost hear Foggy’s frown as Foggy’s head turns towards him.

“Aren’t we?” Foggy asks, reaching out to drop his hand to Matt’s knee. Matt shakes his head a little, the smell of the blood filling his nose.

“I couldn’t help her,” he chokes out. He closes his eyes tighter. Foggy’s head lands, heavy and slightly sweaty and warm, on Matt’s shoulder. Matt shudders.

“You tried, man. It’s more than most people would do. You’re a good guy, Matt,” Foggy says quietly. Squeezes Matt’s knee. “I’m sorry.” Sincerity drips from his voice, washes over Matt. Guilt clenches around Matt’s stomach. He doesn’t deserve the apology.

“I couldn’t help her,” Matt repeats. Foggy thumps his hand against Matt’s arm.

“It wasn’t your fault. Aliens invaded New York, Matt. They made some sort of sky portal...hole thing and came right through and started shooting up the city.” Foggy laughs thinly, and his hand shakes on Matt’s arm. Matt can feel Foggy start to unravel, and he pushes away the memories, the blood, everything but Foggy. Matt covers Foggy’s hand with his own, pats it.

“You’re okay,” Matt says, but Foggy’s laugh is hysterical now.

“ _I’m_ okay? You show up bleeding and concussed and have to tell me I’m okay, you could have _died_ , Matt, what the hell were you _thinking_?” he rambles, tightening his hand on Matt’s arm.

“Hey. Foggy, come on,” Matt urges him. He peels Foggy’s hand off his arm. Foggy makes a panicked sound, reaching for Matt again, but Matt isn’t going anywhere. He wraps his arm around Foggy’s shoulders and pulls him in, his back against Matt’s chest. “It’s okay. We’re both fine, and your family is okay, and this city is strong. It’s hurting now, but we’ll...we’ll fix it.”

“Just the two of us? Want to get out a hammer and some nails?” Foggy snorts. Matt smiles, presses Foggy tighter against his chest. Lets the warm, solid presence of Foggy drive away the emotions of the city.

“If we have to,” Matt says, giving Foggy’s shoulders a shake. “Nelson and Murdock vs. the world, right?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. His muscles relax slightly as he rests his head against Matt’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Matt is still for a moment. There’s a siren outside. Someone inside the ambulance is bleeding, hurting, unlikely to survive. The ambulance drives past a small family who are crying, looking for a child. Their cries are answered by a cop who’s been up for too many hours, whose arm is hurting...the city spirals outwards, everyone affecting everyone else, seemingly endless.

Against his chest, Foggy sighs in displeasure at Matt’s distance.

Something in Matt gives. The fact that Foggy is here, both of them are here, and safe, and not out there in the fear and confusion...it’s all Matt can ask for, really. For now, for the moment, they’re safe. He moves very slowly, fluid and careful, into a more comfortable position for both of them. 

“We got any beer in the fridge?” he asks softly.

“Can’t drink with a concussion, Matt,” Foggy chides.

“Okay. Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we help. Tomorrow night, we drink,” Matt concurs. Foggy nods, his hair brushing against Matt’s neck.

“You wanna turn on the radio? Keep up with everything that’s going on?” Foggy asks after a few moments of silence. Foggy is relaxed and warm against Matt’s chest, and right at this moment, moving is the last thing in the world that Matt wants to do.

“In a minute,” Matt replies. He tightens his fingers on Foggy’s shoulder.

“Yeah. In a minute,” Foggy agrees, as sirens pass by outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for your comments. I hope you enjoyed it!


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